The surgeon, taken by surprise, hesitated. "That's possible, certainly." James Cunningham took the witness chair after the police officers who had arrived at the scene of the tragedy with the surgeon had finished their testimony. One point brought out by the officers was that in the search of the rooms the two thousand dollars was not found. The oil broker gave information as to his uncle's affairs. "You knew your uncle well?" the lawyer asked presently. "Intimately." "And were on good terms with him?" "The best." "Had he ever suggested to you that he might commit suicide?" "Never," answered the oil broker with emphasis. "He was the last man in the world one would have associated with such a thought." "Did he own a revolver?" "No, not to my knowledge. He had an automatic." "What caliber was it?" "I'm not quite sure--about a .38, I think." "When did you see it last?" "I don't recollect." The prosecuting attorney glanced at his notes. "You are his next of kin?" "My brother and I are his nephews. He had no nearer relatives." "You are his only nephews--his only near relatives?" Cunningham hesitated, for just the blinking of an eye. He did not want to bring Kirby into his testimony if he could help it. That might ultimately lead to his arrest. "He had one other nephew." "Living in Denver?" "No." "Where?" "Somewhere in Wyoming, I think. We do not correspond." "Do you know if he is there now?" The witness dodged. "He lives there, I think." "Do you happen to know where he is at the present moment?" "Yes." The monosyllable fell reluctantly. "Where?" "In Denver." "Not in this court-room?" "Yes." "What is the gentleman's name, Mr. Cunningham?" "Kirby Lane." "Will you point him out?" James did so. The lawyer faced the crowded benches. "I'll ask Mr. Lane to step forward and take a seat near the front. I may want to ask him a few questions later." Kirby rose and came forward. "To your knowledge, Mr. Cunningham, had your uncle any enemies?" asked the attorney, continuing his examination. "He was a man of positive opinions. Necessarily there were people who did not like him." "Active enemies?" "In a business sense, yes." "But not in a personal sense?" "I do not know of any. He may have had them. In going through his desk at the office I found a letter. Here it is." The fat little coroner bustled forward, took the letter, and read it. He handed it to one of the jury. It was read and passed around. The letter was the one the promoter had received from the Dry Valley rancher threatening his life if he ever appeared again in that part of the country. "I notice that the letter is postmarked Denver," Cunningham suggested. "Whoever mailed it must have been in the city at the time." "That's very important," the prosecuting attorney said. "Have you communicated the information to the police?" "Yes." "You do not know who wrote the letter?" "I do not."